BSG Damage Control
by Mariel3
Summary: Bill starts out reluctant. Laura's determined. And Tory? Well, she's Tory...AR
1. The setup

Here we are again. This is light. This is fluff. This is nothing much at all. Hmmmm...I guess 'A/R light' would be the appropriate description..

At any rate, thanks for reading. Leave a comment if you're so inclined. They're always appreciated.

Thanks to Diane for reading this over, even though she wishes it were ALP this was all about...

Disclaimer: They're not mine, but it's fun to treat them as though they were - only not-for-profit, of course. That would be totally against the rules, and I'm all for rules... most of the time. And as always, I have no intent to offend...

**Damage Control**  
By: Mariel

* * *

**Part One**

Laura Roslin stepped carefully inside the room, leaving her guards and Tory behind. Once the hatch door was firmly closed behind her and she knew herself to be finally alone, the President of the Twelve Colonies clenched her fists, stomped her foot on the thick rug, and let out a growl of frustration.

"Bad day?" a low, gravelly voice asked.

She whirled around to find Admiral William Adama slouched comfortably on his sofa, a book held in one relaxed hand. Sitting in the warm glow of a nearby table lamp, his legs were crossed at the ankles and his feet rested on the coffee table beside a half-empty glass of water. His uniform was unbuttoned and hung open.

He'd obviously been making himself at home.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded. Surprise made her tone harsher than the situation warranted, but she didn't care. Her day, as a matter of fact, had been hell, but she wasn't about to admit it. Not even to him.

He lifted one eyebrow. Her day had obviously been hell. Letting his eyes play over his surroundings, he noted in a mild tone, "These _are_ my quarters,"

"Not at the moment, they aren't," she snapped testily.

Technically, she was right: _Colonial One_, now resting safely in _Galactica's_ huge repair bay, was off limits for habitation while its FTL drives were refitted and critical wiring updated. Roslin had been using the Admiral's quarters as her home base until the work was completed.

"True," he agreed, "but I left CIC on automatic pilot. I was here before I remembered. I suppose I should have left then, but-" He made a gesture with his hands. "I figured I'd be out of here long before you got back." His voice sounded weary, and held a quiet apology for overstepping the bounds of a good host. Removing his glasses, he ran a hand over his face and admitted, "CIC finally quietened down and I needed a break. I wanted to read for an hour or so to unwind before trying to sleep."

The last week had been filled with cylon contacts, and she knew he had barely stepped foot outside CIC in days. Looking at him, she saw the shadows of fatigue under his eyes and felt a sharp stab of remorse for her less-than-pleasant attitude. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound-"

That's all right," he said, overriding her apology. Replacing his glasses, he swung his feet to the floor and rose heavily. "I offered my space to you. It makes sense you'd come back expecting privacy." He looked around. "I haven't had the opportunity to ask if you've found everything you need."

A smile touched her lips for the first time that evening. "It's been lovely." And definitely, she knew, better than the alternative. Thoughts of that alternative prodded her to say, "I really am sorry for snapping at you; it's been a long day." When he smiled briefly and waved off the apology, she gestured towards the sofa with a slender hand. "Why don't you stay and read? I honestly don't mind. I have a few things I need to go over and sign before Tory comes back for them. I promise not to disturb you, if you promise not to disturb me."

His desire to sit again was plain, but still he hesitated.

"Please?" she asked again, "Otherwise, I'll feel guilty for having kicked you out of your own home."

Relief eased through her when his mouth quirked.

"I could hardly have the President of the Twelve Colonies stay in the guest's quarters."

He had shown her the small, barren space reserved for guests and she hadn't been able to help but feel grateful that William Adama had such an innate sense of chivalry. A night there she could have managed, but a week or more? The thought wasn't pleasant. She smiled. "I now understand why people don't line up to be guests on a battlestar," she agreed. "Seems unfair you have to use them, though."

He shrugged. "I've slept in worse."

Looking at his weary face, she thought quickly. "But you won't be sleeping for a while yet. It's barely 1900. Stay here and finish unwinding," she urged him. "You read; I promise not to disturb you for an hour or so. It's going to take me at least that long to go through the reports Tory left."

She felt a flash of satisfaction when he nodded and sank back heavily onto the sofa. Leaning forward, he picked up the book he'd placed on the coffee table when he'd risen and opened it. Looking up at her, he smiled slightly and promised, "I won't say a word." He then turned his attention to the words on the pages in front of him.

Crossing the floor, Roslin took up her station at his table. Pulling the pile of folders Tory had thoughtfully left for her closer, she took a moment to discreetly examine the man whose life had become so entwined with hers. His uniform jacket was still unbuttoned and hung open, revealing the traditional two undershirts and his dog tags. She guessed he'd normally have removed the jacket completely and she debated suggesting he take it off now, if it made him more comfortable.

She stifled the impulse reluctantly. Not a good idea, she decided, to ask the Admiral of the Fleet to strip down for your viewing pleasure.

Sighing softly, she turned her head and opened a file. As she read, the Admiral's pleasant, solid presence formed a comfortable backdrop to her concentration.

End Part 1/3


	2. The play

**Damage Control**  
By: Mariel

* * *

**Part 2**

She wasn't sure how much time had passed. Taking off her glasses, Laura Roslin rubbed her forehead with the heels of both hands, then turned to look over at the Admiral, who, true to his word, had not uttered a sound the entire time she had worked.

It was immediately apparent why.

Smiling, she rested the side of her head on one hand and took the opportunity to watch him while he slept. It was nice to have the freedom to examine him without the worry of someone taking note of her interest.

Even asleep, William Adama emitted a solid, masculine aura that she found impossible not to respond to. He half-sat, half-lay on the sofa, his knees spread, his book lying forgotten across his lap. Taking her time, she let her eyes skim over his grey-peppered hair and closed eyes, and allowed them to come to rest upon his mouth. She liked his mouth; liked the firm line of it and the curve of his lower lip. She liked the way it quirked at the corners when he almost-smiled and, on some instinctive level, she was certain it was capable of kissing well and thoroughly. Not for the first time, she wondered what it would be like to have him kiss her again. _Really_ kiss her. Not a kiss of thank you or sympathy or of simple affection, but a serious, mind-blowing, _passionate_ kiss that rocked her soul and made her knees weak and her thoughts fuzzy. She exhaled softly. With the attraction between them having reached the point where it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore, she couldn't help but picture herself walking over and lightly touching her lips to his, just to find out what would happen.

She smiled faintly, then shook her head at the idea.

Attacking him in his sleep might be tempting, but probably not the best way to finally initiate something.

She moved to rest her chin on the heel of her hand and continued to ponder his sleeping form. She'd danced with him; been held in his arms and against his body. He'd drawn her to him confidently that night and she'd relaxed against him comfortably, surprised and pleased at how well they moved together. It had felt good, and she had wondered even then what it would have been like to be alone with him, her arms wound around his neck, the full length of her body pressed against his, while-

She straightened up as a trill of sexual awareness coursed through her. Perhaps, she decided, she should find something else to think about. Always one to finish what she started, however, her eyes lingered on the length of his thighs and the way his pants fit over them. There was something very male about it, something that made her want to kneel between them and slide her hands along them from knee to- She halted abruptly. Disappointingly, the book he'd been reading prevented her from considering another noteworthy piece of his anatomy.

She stifled a grin. Definitely time to stop.

Sitting here in the silence and warmth of his quarters, however, she felt loathe to wake him. He looked more at peace than she had seen him in a long time, and she knew how uninviting the room he was presently living in was. To wake him and have him leave for it seemed cruel, somehow. And gods knew the sofa was probably more comfortable than the rack she'd been shown as proof she needed to accept the offer of his quarters.

_"Treat my place as your own," he'd said. "I'm fine with using the GQ for a few days. You need a place suitable for someone of your position - a place where you can have meetings and entertain officials. The guest quarters weren't made for that. They're uninviting, uncomfortable, and don't even come close to fitting the bill for what you need. And they definitely don't have the room you need for working with your aides. You'd end up using my place anyway, so why not just make it official and be done with it?"_

He had made it sound so sensible, she'd finally agreed.

The feelings she experienced sitting at his desk, using his things..._sleeping in his bed_...however, were not so sensible and were far more difficult to explain. And they had surprised her with their intensity. She swore she could smell him on the sheets and pillows, could feel his warm presence in the air around her when she was alone.

This was his space, and it suited her. Welcomed her. Made her feel comfortable. That filled her with a satisfaction she didn't like to examine too closely.

Rising, she walked over to the wall and turned a switch that shut off the lamp over the table where she had worked. It also turned off the light Adama had been reading by. She shrugged. He wouldn't be needing it now, anyway. Like it or not, it was time to wake him so he could leave. Slipping out of her shoes, she walked softly towards him in the dimmed lighting. Settling herself carefully at the edge of the sofa beside him, she placed a hand lightly on his knee.

"Bill," she said gently.

No response.

She moved to lay her hand over his where it rested on his chest and curled her fingers around it so that the tips of her fingers touched his palm.

"Bill?" she repeated, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

She felt him tighten his fingers around hers in response. Slowly, his eyes opened. "Mmmm?"

"You fell asleep," she said softly.

Instead of releasing her hand and rising, he maintained his hold and closed his eyes again with a comfortable sigh. For a long moment he gently caressed the top of her fingers with his thumb.

She stayed frozen in place, shocked at her body's reaction to the contact.

"Mmmm," he finally repeated.

She looked at him, nonplussed. When his thumb slowed and then finally stopped its gentle caress, she realised he had fallen back into sleep. Looking down at their joined hands, she tried to remember the last time someone had held her hand.

How long had it been since she had welcomed a touch so much?

She closed her eyes a moment, imagining that same hand trailing across her skin - and then opened them quickly.

_What was wrong with her tonight? _

Forcing herself to think clearly, she made a decision and carefully extricated her fingers from his grasp. He was obviously exhausted and starved for sleep. It was still reasonably early, so she could give him more time to rest by readying herself for bed and then reading for a while. She could wake him up just before Tory came back to fetch the reports.

An hour and a half later, after changing and reading for a while in his rack, she tried waking him again.

He responded to her first whisper.

Opening his eyes, he took note of his surroundings and immediately struggled to sit up straighter. Catching the book that had lain across his lap as it slid towards the floor, he leaned over and laid it face down on the coffee table. Removing his glasses, he looked up at her and began, "I'm sorry, I-" His face clouded in confusion. "How long have I been out?" he asked, gesturing at her night robe.

Laura smiled. "I think almost four hours. I tried to wake you up a couple of hours ago, but you weren't very cooperative. I decided to give you a little more time by getting ready for bed. Then made the mistake of lying down. I was reading, and forgot to watch the time," she explained. "It's close to 2300 now. Tory will be here in just a few minutes."

"I'm sorry," he said, his face still showing some of the slackness of just waking. Making a visible attempt to gather himself into alertness, he rubbed his neck and then looked at her with a slight smile. "Any time you want me awake, have CIC call me. I never sleep though the phone."

She grinned. "I'll remember that for next time."

He rose. Forgetting what she had said about having to wait for Tory, he said, "I'd better get out of here and let you get to sleep." He paused remembering something, then nodded towards the head. "I need another towel. Let me grab one, and I'm out of your hair."

A moment after he disappeared into the head, there was a quiet knock on the hatch.

Glancing at the clock, Laura knew it had to be Tory. She called an unnecessary, "Come in," and moved to gather the files she'd been working on from Bill's table.

As the hatch was pulled open, she turned and smiled.

Tory stepped into the dimly lit quarters. As the soldier on duty closed the hatch behind her, she noted the President's attire and said, "Madame President, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You're right on time as always, Tory," she said pleasantly. "And I haven't slept yet. I was just lying down." Holding out the files, she said, "I finished everything. Thanks for organising it so well."

Tory, however, didn't notice the proffered papers. Instead, her surprised gaze focussed beyond the President.

Laura turned. Bill walked towards them from the direction of the head. He was looking down and adjusting his jacket. Closing it around him, he began to do up the buttons from the bottom. Still unaware of Tory's presence, he groused, "You use too many towels. I'll have to call down for-" He stopped speaking when he noticed Tory's presence, but continued moving towards the two women.

Laura turned back to Tory and watched her young aide's gaze travel from her state of undress to the Admiral's efforts to dress, and then, slowly, in the direction of Bill's rack.

"_Oh, gods,_" she thought. She'd never felt so naked in a long silk nightgown and matching robe in her life. Self-consciously, she gathered the files into the crook of her arm and clumsily drew the tie at her waist a little tighter.

Oblivious to both Laura's concern and Tory's shocked expression, Adama drew to a stop beside Roslin and nodded at her aide. "Tory," he said, with a relaxed smile, "It's nice to see you." He casually continued dressing, skilfully tucking in the flap of his jacket and securing the inside button.

Tory nodded and smiled somewhat feebly. She seemed unable to speak and her eyes bounced back and forth between them like nervous cats.

Turning to Laura, Bill left the last two neck buttons undone and smiled. "Thanks for tonight. It was just what the doctor ordered. I feel like a new man."

Tory's shocked, swift intake of breath was audible.

Bill's choice of words had a totally different effect on Laura.

Looking from Tory's stunned face to Bill's serious and totally oblivious one, she tried to stifle a sudden, overwhelming urge to giggle.

One hand flew to her chest. "I'm glad," she got out, struggling for composure. "It was the least I could do," she added, her voice sounding oddly strangled. Cursing her funny bone, she quickly turned to Tory and held the files out once again. Breathlessly, she said, "Thank you, Tory. I won't keep you."

Tory finally thought to take the offered files. Working hard to keep her face expressionless, she said, "Of course, Madame President." She pushed on the hatch and it opened slightly. Backing out through the opening slowly, she watched them as though mentally confirming that her eyes had not deceived her.

A giggle escaped Laura just as the door clanged closed.

Bill looked at her, puzzled. He'd seen her like this once or twice before, so he recognised all the signs of an attack of the giggles, but he had no idea what had brought this one on. What he did know was that he wanted to stick around until it was over, because the sound of Laura Roslin's laughter was better than any sound he could think of.

"Laura?" he said.

She dissolved into laughter. Waving her hands helplessly, she gasped, "That's it, Bill. I can't believe it. There go our reputations. What were you thinking? Gods...coming out of there, doing up your clothes, and me standing here like this...'_Just what the doctor ordered_'? '_Feel like a new man_'!" She dissolved into giggles, then recovered sufficiently to continue, "Did you see Tory's face? Do you have any idea what's going through her mind right now? _Or what she's going to put me through tomorrow?_" She raised a hand and waved a finger at the door Tory had just passed through. "She's out there right now thinking scathing things about how I need to keep her informed about my sex life, and about how public knowledge of our lascivious behaviour could ruin my chances in the upcoming election!"

Still not quite caught up to Laura's train of thought, a part of Bill's brain busied itself with noting her appearance. She looked beautiful. He'd been too preoccupied to notice before, but her hair tumbled about her shoulders enchantingly, and the deep-coloured silken robe she wore was enticingly thin and clung to her perfectly. He felt a familiar surge of male response to her that he had to firmly squash.

The other, slower part of his brain finally managed to visualize the situation as Laura described it and as Tory must have seen it. Adding things up to their sum, he looked at her with concern.

"Laura, this isn't funny. The last thing you need before the election is a rumour that-" He stopped abruptly, then attempted, "That we-" he paused again, and gestured with his hands, unable to find the words.

She struggled to control herself. "I can take care of it tomorrow. Tory will understand. That," she giggled, "or she'll conduct a focus group to determine public opinion on our relationship."

"She wouldn't!"

His dismayed roar and the appalled look on his face sent her off into peals of laughter. She walked over and collapsed onto the sofa, leaning over to hold her stomach as she laughed. Finally, she calmed enough to assure him that the focus group was improbable and that she'd be able to explain everything in the morning. He nodded uncertainly. "You know her better than I do. I'm sorry. I didn't think."

He wouldn't have, either, she thought fondly. She looked at him and wanted to hug him for being so clueless. They'd come close on more than one occasion to putting attraction into action, but it would never occur to him that anyone would pick up on what they were still skirting around. And it would be beyond him to think that anyone would believe that he and she had done anything before they actually had. She giggled again, then asked him impulsively, "I should really sleep instead, and it's probably rude of me to offer since these are your quarters, but would you like a drink before you go? If my reputation is going to be in tatters for just one night, I should make it a grand gesture, don't you think?"

He looked uncertain for a moment, but decided to do exactly what he felt like doing - which was to stay. He finally smiled. "Sounds good," he said. "I'm awake now, anyway. But let me get it," he ordered. "Ambrosia okay?"

She tilted her head to one side and raised her eyebrows. "You still have some?"

"Of course." He looked at her and grinned wickedly. "I've been saving it for that special I've-just-ruined-a-woman's-reputation moment."

Her eyes twinkled. "In that case, I'd love some."

End Part 2/3

Sorry about this, but I fell into that _Tigh Me Up, Tigh Me Down_ mood...


	3. The catch

I'm back and finally getting this posted. Sorry for the delay. Hope it provides a smile...

Disclaimer: They're still not mine. I still make no money. And I don't intend to offend with my imaginings.

Thanks for the reviews for parts one and two. They made _ME_ smile!

**Damage Control**  
By: Mariel

* * *

Part 3 

Laura settled herself more comfortably on the sofa and tucked her legs beneath her. As Bill rounded the corner with their drinks, she saw him pause slightly when he caught sight of her. She smiled inwardly.

He was no longer oblivious.

"I brought the bottle, in case it takes more than one drink to put you out," he said. Passing her a glass of the coloured liquid, he then leaned over to set the bottle on the coffee table in front of her.

She tilted her head to one side and a corner of her mouth lifted. "You want me unconscious?" she asked.

He smiled and sat down beside her. Twisting himself slightly so that he faced her, he leaned against the back of the sofa. "Of course not," he said comfortably. "You're far more fun awake, but I thought you said you needed sleep. There aren't many better ways of ensuring a good night's worth than a couple glasses of this."

Without thinking, she said, "And the other, better ways would be...?"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she thought of an excellent one. A wonderful one that involved two people getting naked and close and-

He did, too, because he stilled, and they shared a long glance.

She wished he hadn't done up his uniform top.

He wanted to feel the slide of silk against her skin.

Tearing his eyes away from hers, he cleared his throat and said, "I can't think of one at the moment."

A thrill of awareness shooting through her, she softly suggested, "You need to think harder, Bill."

Her comment was provocative, but it seemed to be the night for it. Gods knew the mood had changed drastically since her arrival hours earlier. Physical awareness of him hung in the air around her like a blanket, making it hard to breathe or think straight. All she wanted to do was touch him. She closed her eyes briefly. The thought of his bare chest beneath her palms sent a shot of hot desire pulsing through her.

Opening her eyes, she sought and met his. If she were any judge, he was every bit of aware of her as she was of him. Feeling her whole body flush with warmth, she held his gaze with eyes that were dark and full of invitation. Not breaking eye contact, she slowly lifted her glass to her lips and took a long sip.

Mid-swallow, she stopped abruptly, her eyes widening.

Making a choking sound, she leaned forward and brought the glass away from her lips abruptly.

Setting her drink down quickly, she untucked her legs from beneath her and put her feet on the floor. Hunching her shoulders, she gagged slightly, then began coughing loudly into her hand. So much, she thought, for a grand seduction. Suddenly torn between a desire to giggle and a strong need to get the liquid she had inhaled out of her lungs before she choked, her survival instinct kicked in and she coughed some more.

Turning away from Bill, she continued to hack up the ambrosia out of her lungs. Concerned, he shifted to the edge of the sofa and patted her on the back, asking if she were okay and if there were anything he could get her. She shook her head, and explained in a strangled voice, "I just... swallowed the wrong way," and then continued to cough until there were tears in her eyes.

He rose and brought her a cloth napkin to cough into and a glass of water. Wordlessly, he resumed patting her back.

As her spasms finally quietened, she took a drink of the water he'd brought her and sighed in relief.

The pats on her back became more circular.

He'd learned the feel of silk against her skin.

Slowly, she relaxed, allowing her body to move slightly with the pressure of his massage while she enjoyed the warmth of his palm through the silk of her gown. "Feels good," she said, her voice slightly hoarse from the strain she had put on her throat. She sighed slightly as her skin began to tingle with a heightened awareness of him.

She wondered if she turned around, if he would take her in his arms...

"I thought I was going to have to call in Doctor Cottle," he said lightly. He continued his massage, twisting so that he could use both hands as he moved his ministrations to her shoulders, down her arms, and then up to her neck. He kneaded lightly, loving the feel of the soft cascade of auburn hair that fell across his fingers. He pictured pushing the heavy curtain of it to one side and seeking the smooth softness of her neck with his mouth...

She made a humming sound in her throat. "I'm glad you didn't. I like what you do with your hands better," she murmured.

He considered the things he'd like to do with his hands, opened his mouth to say something suggestive, then caught himself. His hands stopped their movement and slid reluctantly from her body.

She turned to him.

"Bill?"

"I'm sorry," he said in a low tone. "I feel as though I'm in some really bad novel. This is getting-" He didn't finish his sentence, but she knew exactly what had been left unsaid because the alarm bells ringing in the air between them were saying it loud and clear.

"Too close for comfort?" she asked. Pivoting to face him more directly, she looked down at where he had dropped his hand on the sofa between them. Carefully, she placed her hand over it. The skin-to-skin contact made her shiver.

"Oh, it's comfortable enough," he replied. Moving to encircle her small hand with his larger one, he reflexively drew small circles on her wrist with his thumb. "Too comfortable," he added huskily. It was far too easy to envision himself laying her back onto the sofa and covering her body with his own. Far too easy to imagine sliding his hands across her skin and peeling her robe from her shoulders and- He inhaled sharply. "This is dangerous. I-" He paused, then finished lamely, "We can't. You know that. As enticing as the idea might be, we can't."

Now that she had decided that making love with him was as inevitable as the sun rising on Caprica, Laura silently begged to differ. She had a feeling they could - and very well, too. She kept her thoughts to herself, however, and watched him silently.

When she didn't respond, Bill looked down at their joined hands. Squeezing her fingers gently, he lifted his eyes to meet hers and continued, "And this...If there's one thing life has taught me, it's that one thing leads to another. We've come close before, but this is pushing it far beyond that." He looked at her and resisted the urge to lift a hand to touch her face.

"I'm not made of stone, Laura," he rasped.

"No?" she asked, her eyes cloudy with emotions he wasn't sure he dared interpret..

"No."

"That might not be such a bad thing," she suggested in a soft voice.

He closed his eyes.

She watched as he struggled for control; saw his resolve to do what he had determined was right.

And knew just what to say to make it impossible.

She squeezed his hand and allowed a small smile to curve her lips. "It's not polite to make a woman beg, Bill."

He looked at her then, his eyes darkened to a midnight blue. He hesitated, then released a terrible tension in a brief rush of air from his lungs. Humour warmed his voice when he said, "No, I don't suppose it is - but you know that's not my intent."

Still, he didn't move towards her. He hadn't been lucky in love, and whether this was love or something else entirely, if he frakked up whatever it was, there'd be more to get through than walking away after a simple divorce and division of property.

Finally, his eyes filled with hope and affection, he released her hand and lifted it to gently touch her cheek.

"I don't want there to be regrets," he rasped.

"There won't be," she promised.

He admired her certainty, but did not share in it. On some level he knew she was both right and wrong. The wrong was easy to ignore, though, when he was staring into eyes filled with invitation. Giving in, he leaned forward. The kiss he gifted her was tentative, a warm caress of her lips. Tasting her gently, he teased her mouth until she let out a breathy sigh.

She'd been right; he kissed like a dream.

With one hand at the nape of his neck, she relaxed as he slowly lay her back on the sofa and moved to partially cover the length of her body with his. Holding him with her free arm, she shifted herself to press more tightly against him and lifted her mouth to meet his.

-xxx-

Hours later, after very satisfying lovemaking followed by peaceful slumber, they lay together in his rack contemplating their next move. It was morning, and almost time to get up - and Laura was silently debating how to get Bill back into the guest quarters without causing comment.

Lying contentedly beside her with his arm beneath her head, Bill swore he could hear the wheels of Laura's brain turning, and knew damned well what they were turning about. Cursing himself for falling soundly asleep after their exertions, he considered his options and automatically went to Plan B. Thinking he should probably alleviate Laura's worry by telling her of Plan B's existence, he turned over on his side and moved to hold her against him comfortably. She rolled towards him and slid her arm over him. When she lightly kissed his neck, he opened his mouth to speak-

Before he could utter a sound, there was a knock on the hatch. Both stiffened in alarm.

"Gods. Who can that be? It's only six!" Laura muttered. Rolling away from him quickly, she rose, scrambled for her nightgown, and drew it over her head. Picking up her robe, she pulled it on as she walked towards the entrance. Bill left his rack just as quickly, picked up his pants from a chair and his underclothes off the floor, and strode in the direction of the head.

Checking to make sure Bill was safely out of sight, Laura released the hatch's lock. It soon opened, and Tory slipped inside and pulled it closed behind her with a determined tug.

"Tory, this is early even for you. Is there something planned I've forgotten?" Laura asked.

Her aide turned from the door and regarded her with a serious expression.

"No, Madame President. I'm here for damage control."

Laura looked at her.

"Damage control?" she asked. Involuntarily, she glanced at the sofa to see if they'd left anything incriminating there before they'd headed for Bill's bed.

Tying the belt of her robe, she groaned inwardly. Bill's damned uniform top. Was the frakking thing possessed?

Tory, who had followed Laura's glance at the sofa and seen the Admiral's uniform jacket, turned to face the President, her face aghast. "He's still here!" she said, her voice filled with disbelief. Her gaze turned towards Bill's sleeping area. "He was here _all night_!"

She didn't feel a need to say who 'he' was, and Laura didn't need to ask.

The frakking uniform was busy gleefully shouting it out for them.

Tory turned towards her boss. It was far worse than she had thought. _Gods, _she fumed, _none of this had been in any of Billy's notes. _

_-And how could they not have enough sense to at least make an _appearance _of sleeping where they were supposed to!_

She drew herself up straight and got a grip on herself. In as calm a voice as she could manage, she said, "Ma'am, unless you plan to publicly announce your affair with the Admiral, you're going to have to be a lot more discreet. If this is how you've been handling things, I have no idea how you've managed to keep it a secret until now - but now that I'm aware, it's my duty to see that knowledge of this doesn't leak out to others unless we want it to." She stopped speaking, the horror of that thought making her shiver, then continued in a clipped tone, "And we _definitely_ don't want it leaking out right now. At this point in the campaign, this sort of..." she paused, searching for an appropriate term. Finally giving up, she used the first thing that came to mind: "... _mucking about _with the Admiral could cost you the election." She moved to begin pacing, then stopped herself. "You know any perceived collusion between the military and civilian leaders would be used against you."

Laura listened carefully to what the young woman said. She made a mental note of the term 'mucking about' because she was unfamiliar with it. And silently ignored the desperate_ 'What in gods name have you been thinking_?' sound in Tory's voice. Part of her mind also noted the word 'collusion'. She'd never heard that word used as a synonym for what she and Bill had been doing, but she thought she liked it.

She'd have to mention it to Bill...

Who'd have thought her aide would be such a learning experience?

Trying to rein in her random sense of humour, she bit her tongue. Tory was obviously taking it hard that she hadn't been consulted first. It was also obvious that the woman didn't give a fig about the ethics or morals of the affair itself, only the political ramifications of it.

"I see," Laura said slowly, stalling for time as she wondered if she should apprise her aide as to just how new her affair with the Admiral was. Taking in her aide's determined mood, she decided against it. First time or fiftieth, Tory would still feel affronted and still feel she needed to manage the situation.

When the President did not comment further, Tory made a motion towards the hatch and said, "Madame President, there are two guards standing out there in the corridor. Have you thought about how the Admiral is going to get back to his living accommodations without being seen?"

"I've been thinking about it, yes," Laura said in a defensive tone.

Caught up in her own thoughts, Tory didn't really hear the President's weak response. Instead, she shook her head in disbelief. "Last night was bad enough. That at least could have been dealt with- a meeting gone late, perhaps." She looked over at the offending uniform top again, then lowered her voice. "But him staying the _night._.." She gave Laura a look of utter disbelief and shook her head. The man had been doing up his uniform when she'd left. What on earth had possessed him to take it _off _again and-

She looked at the President's state of disarray and tried to stop her thoughts from going in the direction they were going.

She really didn't want to know.

She grimaced. Too late. Obviously what they said about the libidos of people in power was true...

Clasping her hands tightly in front of her, she took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts together. "Madame President, the Admiral must have been seen coming in here last night. It's equally obvious that someone noticed that he _didn't_ leave." She unclasped her hands and lifted them in frustration. "Word about this is going to be out all over the Fleet by breakfast," she said.

Bill walked in then. Moving past the two women, he picked up his uniform top and shrugged it on. As she had the night before, Tory watched as he did up the buttons. She wondered how much of his life he spent doing them up. She glanced at the President. And then undoing them again.

She grimaced again and returned her gaze to the Admiral. It'd make her life a frakkin' hell of a lot easier if he'd keep them done up.

Noting Tory's intense stare, Adama turned to her and nodded easily. "Tory," he said, "Good morning. It's nice to see you."

Laura grinned. He sounded as though he saw her aide at this hour and in these circumstances every morning. He was, she decided, unflappable. She glanced down. Even in his sock feet.

"It's always nice to see her, Bill," she said. Sobering, she told him, "Tory is here for damage control. She-"

"I overheard," he interjected quickly. "She's worried about my having been seen entering but not leaving," Calmly, he continued, "That's taken care of. Jake Editerror was on last night. I sent him off duty when I arrived, so he could pick up his daughter. I do it most nights he's on, so it definitely didn't cause comment. The guard coming on duty later would assume I was back in the GQ by the time he arrived."

Mollified, Tory relaxed slightly and nodded. Getting straight to the next matter of business, she began the next item on her list: "You're going to have to change the way your guards are stationed. I suggest-"

Lifting his chin to do the last button, Bill broke into her words. "I'll cut the guard in half." Finished, he smoothed the front of his jacket flat and shrugged. "We don't need his-and-her protection when we're in our quarters at night - and they'll be stationed at the end of the corridor so that they can cover this corridor and the outer one. It saves on manpower and, coincidentally, allows for more freedom of movement without being observed." He smiled at Laura. "It's not an unknown tactic."

Bill sobered when he saw Laura's eyes narrow.

She was wondering what made him such an expert.

Tory noticed the exchanged glances but was not interested in their silent conversation.

"And yet you didn't initiate this 'tactic' when you invited the President to stay in your quarters," she observed curtly.

Bill had no idea how long the young woman thought he and Laura had been involved, but he was hardly about to tell her last night had been their first time and that it had been totally unplanned.

He darted a look at Laura. On_ his_ part, at least.

He turned his attention back to Tory. "I'm afraid I forgot. I've been a bit preoccupied with cylon incursions," he explained blandly.

Not able to refute that fact, Tory stepped back slightly.

Laura looked at Bill and raised one eyebrow gracefully. "It's good to know you have your priorities straight," she said in a silky tone.

Bill inclined his head solemnly. "Always," he said, giving her a slow wink.

Thinking they were not half enough concerned about the ramifications of their actions, Tory broke into their shared moment and said, "But now we have new ones."

The two turned to her, their expressions puzzled. "New what?" they asked in unison.

"New priorities," she explained in an exasperated tone. "The cylon incursions have slowed down for the time being, so now you have to start thinking about guarding the secret of your affair more carefully. It _can't _become public knowledge."

They both nodded their heads, understanding that what she said was true.

"I'll do the guard detail change," Bill said. Looking Tory straight in the eye, he then added stiffly, "With that done, I don't think we'll require any further assistance from you. Providing we can rely on _your _discretion, I'm sure we're capable of keeping our...situation... discreet on our own."

Laura bit the inside of her cheek to stop from smirking. She'd been waiting for him to warn Tory off. He might be unflappable, but he'd hate anyone thinking they could comment on his personal conduct. In spite of his calm façade, Bill was _so_ hating this.

Tory, however, was not easily cowed when she was busy protecting her election results. Not even by an Admiral.

"That may be the case, sir, but please don't forget that you're in here and the guards are out there," she pointed out. "Editerror's absence covers you for last night, but how will you explain your leaving here this morning?"

From the satisfaction on her face, Laura could see Tory felt she'd just trumped the Admiral.

Bill, however, was a tactician, and a good one. "Laura's detail leaves when she does. All she has to do is leave before my military escort changes, in..." He looked at his time piece, then continued, "...about forty-five minutes. I'll take care of the rest."

Tory stared at him. "And how do you intend to do that?" she asked.

Bill stared back at her. No way in hell was he telling her that. Admiral-guarding while he was in his quarters had become somewhat slack and he'd been more than happy to allow it. At times, he even encouraged it - he found it pretentious under the circumstances, and having people lingering outside his doorway all the time was irritating. Still, he had no intention of letting this slip of a girl know just how easy it was to put something over on the men charged with guarding his life.

When he didn't respond, she demanded, "Well?"

Bill continued to stare at her. You don't question an Admiral. And you _definitely_ didn't use that tone of voice.

Obviously someone had forgotten to teach her that.

_Civilians_, he thought.

Valiently striving for patience, he waited a beat before he spoke.

"The President will make sure she leaves the door ajar when she leaves," he said in a dangerously quiet tone. "Then, _as I said_, I'll take care of the rest."

Tory held his gaze a moment. Her eyes soon flickered and went down in defeat. The unspoken - and no doubt finer - details of his plan were obviously going to remain unknown. What was known was that it was in her best interests to shut the hell up.

She nodded silently.

Then her eyes narrowed.

"Does anyone else know about you two?" she asked.

Both shook their heads.

"Good," she said.

When they looked at one another and smiled, her feelings of reassurance faded. "Are you sure?" she asked suspiciously.

Bill and Laura turned their gazes towards her, then at one another again.

"We're sure," Bill said.

After all, no matter how good the ship's grapevine, it had been only six hours or so since-

Tory's business-like voice broke into his thoughts.

"We've got to keep it that way," she asserted.

They both nodded, quite comfortable with that.

"And you're going to have to be far more careful."

They were both comfortable with that, too, though Bill was becoming noticeably irritated by Tory's manner.

Laura hid a smile, then asked, "Is that all?"

Tory sighed. With the look of a woman whose mission, for now, was accomplished, she said: "You've got forty minutes before your day starts, Madame President. I'll return for you then."

Nodding at them both, she turned and left, closing the hatch firmly behind her.

-xxx-

There was a moment's silence as the two left behind stared wordlessly at the hatch. Then, with a sigh, Laura turned to Bill. When she saw the look on his face, she raised her hand. "Don't say it. Remember, I live with her all the time. And she _is_ good. She just lacks-"

Words failed her.

"You can say that again," he said huffily.

They looked at the door again. Laura turned to Bill. "Well," she said in a lighter tone. "I guess that makes this official, at any rate."

Bill's face relaxed. "I believe so," he agreed.

She smiled. He smiled back. Stepping forward, he wrapped his arms around her.

She rested her head against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist..

"Tory thinks we've been at this for a while," she said.

"I gathered that. It means we have a lot of catching up to do, I guess."

Laura smiled against his jacket. "I love a challenge."

"Good." He kissed her hair. "Tonight?"

She looked up at him. "Tonight," she promised.

He bent his head and touched his lips to hers. "And now you'd best start getting ready for your day."

She nodded, but didn't let go of him. Instead, she put her head back against his shoulder.

"Laura?"

"Let me enjoy this, Bill. I'm faster at getting ready than you think. It's amazing how easy it is to choose what to wear when you have only three outfits."

He settled his arms around her more comfortably. He felt lucky, fortunate, blessed.

Scared shitless.

In the tradition of all great admirals, he ignored the scared shitless.

"You won't mind finding me here when you return? You weren't very happy to see me last night," he teased gently.

She ground a certain part of her against a certain part of him. "That was before I found out what a surprisingly talented man you are. After last night's performance, you have an open invitation," she said.

His chuckle rumbled deeply in his chest. "Ah, so you're an opportunist."

"To the core."

He tightened his grip on her momentarily, then became serious. "This is very bad timing. You're not worried? About what could happen if people find out?"

He knew that the repercussions for him would be negligible: mostly sly looks and salacious thoughts that the Old Man had still had it in him. For her, however, there was the election to consider, and what knowledge of their relationship could mean to its results.

Laura lifted her head from his chest and looked up at him. "Excuse me? With Tory taking care of damage control? I don't think we have anything to worry about at all." Knowing her answer wasn't enough, she admitted, "And the timing would have been bad no matter when we did this. I'm worried, but not terribly, so let's wait until tonight to discuss it." She snaked her arms up and around his neck. "Let's just enjoy this for the moment. It makes me happy."

Bill sighed contentedly and let the matter rest. She felt good in his arms. The feel of her silk gown sliding against her skin brought back pleasant memories...

He looked at the clock on the wall and calculated rapidly.

"How upset would Tory be if we didn't answer the door immediately when she comes back?" he asked with a grin.

She lifted her head, her eyes dancing merrily when she saw the mischief in his eyes. Wordlessly, she took his hand and led him towards the rack. After all, she thought, there was little point in having a person to manage damage control if you didn't inflict a little of it to require it.

She looked back at Bill then, loving the look of anticipation she saw on her face.

Then she sighed.

Those damned buttons again...

End  
Part 3/3


End file.
